Wednesday, September 10, 2014

“Know, first, who you are, and then adorn yourself accordingly.”—Epictetus

Author’s note: This week
is National Suicide Prevention Week, a time to focus our efforts on preventing
the tragic deaths of more than 800,000 people around the world who die each
year by suicide. Many of them have
mental illness and lack effective treatments. This week, I am in New York
City with my second husband (we married in June) to promote my book on
children’s mental health, The Price of Silence: A Mom’s Perspective onMental Illness, from Hudson Street Press.

Once upon a time, I
wrote a blog about thrift store wedding dresses and second chances. It became a
book called Little White Dress: Women Explore the Myth and Meaning ofWedding Dresses.This book earned me, my
25 co-authors, and Mill Park Publishing a 2012 Bronze Ippy Award in Women’s
Issues from the Independent Publishers Association of America. This post is a
follow-up to that original post. It is also an expression of immense gratitude
for the life I have today, and for the man who chose to share it with me and my
children.

A few years ago, anticipating what would have been my
sixteenth wedding anniversary were it not for my divorce, I wrote a nostalgic
post about thrift store wedding dresses and second chances. My essay sparked a
steady stream of wedding dress stories—some bitter, some sweet, some funny,
some achingly sad, all revealing various aspects of a woman’s life and
experiences with love. I was so touched by these stories that I thought,
“Wouldn’t it be great if we could collect them in a book?”

So I called Elaine Ambrose, Midlife Cabernet blogger, owner
of Mill Park Publishing, and a woman whom I think deserves the title of “Erma
Bombeck Part II: The Sassier Sequel.”

“What if we do a book about wedding dresses?” I said.

“Sounds great!” she replied.

“And what if we put the book together in one day?” I was
pressing my luck here—I knew it. But I had this vision, born of too many
writing workshops where I left feeling unfulfilled and empty-handed, of
creating a physical book in one sitting as tangible proof of my friends’ formidable
writing talents

Any other publisher would have said, “Hell, no! There’s no
way you can put a book together in one day.”

But not Elaine. She didn’t even blink. “Sure,” she replied.
“Let’s do it. I’ll supply the wine.”

And so Little White
Dress: Women Explore the Myth and Meaning of Wedding Dresses, was compiled
on August 8, 2011, three years after my divorce. It took a few more weeks to
edit, lay the book out, and print physical copies. But start to finish, we
completed the entire project in just a few weeks. Elaine hosted a swanky country
club “book reception,” with proceeds benefiting Dress for Success, and I wore
my original white wedding dress, a bit snug after four kids, but I could still
zip it up if I only took shallow breaths.

I still remember when Elaine called to tell me the book had
won a bronze 2012 Ippy Award in Women’s Issues. I was in the grocery store,
looking for ketchup. “Do I still have to bag my own groceries?” I asked, so
giddy with excitement that I announced the news to everyone on my aisle. I did
still have to bag my own groceries. And I still do. But the medal looks really
cool hanging on my office wall.

Now, of course, Elaine has surpassed our project with her
own silver medal for Midlife Cabernet (the book version of her delightful blog),
and I’m sure a gold is in her future.

And last June, I decided to put on a wedding dress again,
this time, a blue one.

In August 2011, this is what I wrote about what that day, if
it ever came, would mean to future me:

Will I ever wear
another off-white dress on a day of goofy rituals? I can’t say right now that I
see the attraction to that particular fairy tale. These days, I prefer the one
where Cinderella breaks through the glass ceiling. But if I do decide again to
don the costuming of love, I’m pretty certain of two things: first, I will love
someone enough to wear a silly dress for him (this is no small amount of love),
and second, I will buy the dress at a thrift store. Because every wedding dress
deserves a second chance.

At that time, I had officially resigned
from the dating scene. Unpredictable, shallow men felt like a waste of time compared
with my kids or my job. And besides, I was spending about half my time at IEP
meetings, and the other half at the Ada County Juvenile Detention Facility or
Intermountain Hospital, trying desperately to get help for a sweet little boy
who sometimes flew unto uncontrollable violent rages.

Little did I know that the whole time I
was crying in my cubicle, wondering how I would take care of my son and my
other children, I was actually working right next to the person who would be my
future partner in crime, Ed Pack, a red-headed Woodpecker who would promise to
aid and abet me in a new set of life adventures (yes, that’s a Tom Robbins
reference right there, folks).

I guess in hindsight, I should have
known I had a thing for Ed when I offered to drive him to his colonoscopy in
October 2011. I thought I was just being a nice boss—I was Jack Donaghy picking
up Liz Lemon when she had her root canal on Valentine’s Day. The nurse called
me “Mrs. Pack” that afternoon, and I didn’t correct her—maybe her comments got
us both thinking.

Since we worked together, a romantic
relationship wasn’t possible. But we built a solid friendship, sharing hiking stories and swapping books.
Several plot twists later, I was working someplace else, and Mr. Pack called me
up asked me out for a beer. It was the first of several—okay, four—dates before
I couldn’t keep my hands off of him any longer. Yes, he really is that cute!

And yes, it is no small amount of love
that led me to a beach in Surf City, New Jersey, to wear a stunning light blue
silk charmeuse hand beaded dress (new with tags) that I bought at, you guessed
it, the Idaho Youth Ranch Thrift Store for $15. It’s my second-best thrift
store find ever. The first was a 1925 Model M Steinway piano, in case you are
wondering.

I wrote a bluegrass song for Ed and
played it on the iPad. He wrote a poem for me, describing all the adventures we
had shared, from backpacking the Washington Coast (“embrace the mud!”) to turning
off our cell phones the night my “I Am Adam Lanza’s Mother” post went viral. My
kids fought to read us our vows (we had “officially” tied the knot a few days
before at City Hall). We took silly beach selfies and watched my younger two play
in the waves. I wasn’t too worried about my dress getting wet, because as I
mentioned, it was $15. My new sister-in-law provided an elegant touch with
peach-colored rose bouquets for my daughter and me, and boutonniers for the
boys.

It cannot have been an easy decision
for Ed to give up a comfortable solitary existence for the hustle-bustle of my
busy life. Similarly, it was very hard for me to develop enough trust in a man
to tie the knot again. We both had to be sure we were in this for the long-haul.
Everyone has baggage at our stage in life; you just want to be with someone who
carries his or her own.

This week, I’m profoundly grateful for
that god of second chances, and for a partner who inspires me, supports me,
challenges me, and excites me about the possibilities of life. His overarching
credo is a sense of wonder, and we share profound gratitude for “all things
bright and beautiful, all creatures great and small.” I’m sure we’ll face
challenges—all couples do. But I feel confident in our combined ability to
weather storms and marvel at sunrises and sunsets—together.

About Me

Liza Long, aka the Anarchist Soccer Mom, is a writer, educator, mental health advocate, and mother of four children. She loves her Steinway, her husband, her kids,and her day job, not necessarily in that order. Her book "The Price of Silence: A Mom's Perspective on Mental Illness" from Hudson Street Press is available in bookstores and online. The views expressed on this blog are entirely her own and in no way reflect the views of her employer (or anyone else, for that matter).